


Lovelorn

by Mntsnflrs



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Humor, M/M, Minor Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mntsnflrs/pseuds/Mntsnflrs
Summary: Hypothetically speaking, the reason Mark wanted to bury himself whenever he saw Taeyong and his friends would be because he was hopelessly in love with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life. It would be because Ten, petite and warm and unashamedly affectionate, made Mark feel so many things at once that with one glance, one soft touch, Mark wanted to sprint into the ether. In a good way, but also in a terrible way.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 35
Kudos: 422





	Lovelorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sneakiest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakiest/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy darling, and I hope everyone else does too! Thank you for reading, and you can find me on twt @mntsnflrs xo

Taeyong was a good cousin. The best, really. Growing up, he’d always been the kind of support that Mark needed, the gentle, guiding hand, the sincere encouragement. If Mark looked back at the course of his twenty years, a lot of who he was had been established because of Taeyong’s constant presence in his life.

The fact that they’d ended up at the same college felt closer to fate than to intent, but even that was probably because of Taeyong’s presence in Mark’s life, the way he’d waited at the edge of the room with Mark’s mom, swinging his legs and shouting praise while Mark stumbled his way through his first dance class.

Saying it was fate felt cooler though. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that Mark had spent his entire life dreaming of dancing as well as Taeyong did. It was kind of embarrassing to admit one of his goals was to be the kind of presence that Taeyong had always proven himself to be – not just to Mark, but to everyone.

It was kind of embarrassing to admit that Mark would have followed Taeyong anywhere, whether it was to college or to space.

So he didn’t admit it. He enrolled in college and established himself, and only midway through his second week of classes did Taeyong ring, surprised and delighted, to exclaim, “I had no idea you’d applied here too! Which dorm are you in, we need to go for lunch!”

It had been over a year since then, and while Mark had some regrets about college (agreeing to room with Donghyuck being the first, considering the mess and lack of personal space) but he didn’t regret his college choice, joining the dance soc that Taeyong basically ruled, or the fact that whenever he needed it, Taeyong was only a text and a coffee away.

Unfortunately for Mark’s sanity, it meant Taeyong’s friends were also only a text and a coffee away, and that was something he had come to regret. Just a little.

Mark just… wanted them to be slightly further away.

Miles, if possible. Hours.

“You don’t mean that,” Donghyuck said from Mark’s bed. He was eating chips, noisy and obnoxious, dropping sour cream flavoured crumbs in Mark’s sheets. “You’re like, the baby of the group. They all treat you like royalty. Why wouldn’t you want to see them?”

Mark turned back to his desk to pretend he was focusing on his essay instead of replying.

“Mark.”

He stared at the blank word document, resolute.

“Mark Lee.”

He opened Google, unsure what to search. He hadn’t even checked to see what topic he was meant to be researching for the paper.

“Is it Ten?”

His head snapped round. When Donghyuck smiled evilly, cheeks full, Mark knew that he must have been starting to blush. “No,” he said, voice weak. “Why would it be Ten?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why would it be Ten?”

“I don’t know, because it isn’t Ten.”

“But hypothetically, if it was Ten, why would it be Ten?”

Hypothetically speaking, the reason Mark wanted to bury himself whenever he saw Taeyong and his friends would be because he was hopelessly in love with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life. It would be because Ten, petite and warm and unashamedly affectionate, made Mark feel so many things at once that with one glance, one soft touch, Mark wanted to sprint into the ether. In a good way, but also in a terrible way.

Hypothetically, of course.

“I don’t know,” Mark mumbled. “Ten’s cool.”

“He is,” Donghyuck agreed. “Give or take a couple of evil deeds, he’s a nice guy. So why is it that despite how much you blush and giggle around him, you also look like someone is clamping your balls?”

The imagery was enough to make him flinch. “I hate that you made me picture that.”

“I hate that I have to see you yearn, but complaining doesn’t move things forward, does it?”

“I don’t _yearn.”_

“Sure,” Donghyuck said, condescending. “And I don’t eat chips in your bed just to make your sheets uncomfortable so that you’ll have to do the next load of laundry.”

Mark looked at Donghyuck, betrayed. “Seriously? I did the last load!”

“I’m lazy,” Donghyuck said. “And also stubborn, so keep talking about what makes you turn into a Victorian maiden around Ten.”

“Nothing!”

Donghyuck crumpled up his empty packet and shoved it below the sheets. “You’re worse than Jeno was,” he muttered. Then, louder, “Fine, keep your stupid virgin secrets. Write your essay.”

“Get out of my room!”

“Nah, I’m gonna take a procrastination nap,” Donghyuck said, rolling onto his side. He burrowed down into the sheets, wrinkling his nose when he no doubt felt the sandpaper texture of his own crumbs. “You live like a goblin, Mark. You should do your laundry more often.”

“I hate you, dude.”

Donghyuck blew him a kiss and rolled over. In a matter of minutes his breathing had evened, and Mark was left to his own thoughts and his blank page.

To his chagrin, his thoughts immediately went back to his hypothetical yearning.

More specifically, the last time he’d seen Ten in person. Less than a week ago, watching a movie at Johnny’s apartment. With the lack of room, everyone was sandwiched together, but Mark couldn’t avoid noticing just how close Ten was. His profile had been beguiling in the low light of the television screen, his bangs slightly too long, making him blink them out of his eyes every so often. He’d been warm, his scent somewhere between perfume, deodorant, and spice. Between Mark and Yangyang, he’d ended up with one leg thrown across Mark’s lap, his dainty cheek pressed against Mark’s shoulder. Why? Yangyang was Ten’s annoyingly perfect little son, the prime cuddle candidate. Why had he leant all over Mark in the dark, hot apartment? Why had he smiled against Mark’s neck when a jumpscare made Jungwoo squeal?

Worse than any of that; why had Mark enjoyed it all so much? Why had he needed to shift Ten’s leg away from his boner?

He was bisexual, but that wasn’t the problem. He had experience, but that also wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Ten was known for his clinging, his endeared smiles, his wandering hands. He was known for loving his friends, and as Donghyuck had said, Mark was the baby of the group. He’d been introduced as such, as Taeyong’s innocent little cousin, and his role had remained the same.

Ten cuddled Mark like a puppy or a kitten. Something small, and yeah, cute, but also like, definitely not sexy.

Longing was difficult to traverse, even more so when the man you were yearning for saw you as a sweet kid to take care of. Even more so when he was naturally tactile, and every touch made you feel like there was fire burning in your oesophagus, lightning against your fingertips, heady smoke clouding your lungs.

Mark felt consumed when he saw Ten, on a stage dancing with possession in his eyes or in his apartment in baggy clothes with bare feet, drunk and sweet from pink wine. It didn’t seem to matter where he saw Ten or how he saw Ten, and that was what was becoming alarming. Lust was one thing. A crush was one thing.

He’d felt lust before. He’d had crushes before.

The way he thought about Ten at all hours was something else.

It scared him.

It scared him, but not as much as the thought of Ten sitting next to someone else during a movie, placing his pretty lips against someone else’s neck.

No matter what kind of love was in Ten’s eyes when he gazed at Mark, he’d take it above no gaze at all. He’d take it above those dark eyes looking elsewhere.

It might have been selfish, or maybe even possessive. That was fine. Things were easy to acknowledge when they were hypothetical, like the way Mark’s skin burned when he saw Ten sweat, the way he panted Ten’s name into his pillow when he had someone else’s teeth biting into his shoulder, someone else’s cock making him scream.

If Mark allowed himself to think about it, he’d probably realise that he was screwed. Entirely, undeniably screwed.

He stared at the blank page and listened to Donghyuck’s sleepy breathing, thinking about Ten’s demonic eyes, his angelic smile.

Yeah, he was screwed.

Hypothetically, of course.

-

The idea that problems ended with the teenage years was something that Mark had believed in, but only because of how saturated it was. Family friends laughing together about their sullen daughter, their aggressive son, pinning emotions entirely on the fact that they were teenagers, that their surface level problems only felt deeper because they were too young to understand that life wasn’t so serious yet.

What a shock it was to reach his twenties and find out that the problems, for the most part, remained the same. Despite what parents said, anxiety and anger didn’t just level when you turned twenty and continued the upwards climb towards adulthood.

If Mark hadn’t been surrounded by the right kind of people, he didn’t know what he would have done. It seemed like with each year that passed, there was more expectancy for him to have his shit together, and the more of his shit he dropped.

The thing about Ten should have been small. It should have been a shower of rain instead of the storm he was drowning in. It should have been nothing, but it turned into everything every time Ten was in sight. Whatever Mark managed to hold onto slipped through his fingers the second Ten smiled, mischievous, like he knew just how much Mark was struggling.

“He doesn’t,” Jaemin said one Saturday night, squashed between Mark and Renjun in a dimly lit bar, waiting for Jeno to bring over their drinks. “I know it might feel easier to pretend he knows how you feel, but he doesn’t have a fucking clue.”

“How can you be sure?”

Jaemin smiled, tired but patient. “I didn’t know,” he said. “About Jeno. I didn’t know for a long time, for months. I didn’t know until he told me, because Jeno is great at smiling blankly when things behind his eyes are very busy. You’re the same, Mark. It’s just easier to smile and act normal than to admit that something is troubling you, because you assume everyone already knows. You and Jeno – and Renjun, if we’re on the topic – aren’t as open with your emotions as you seem to think you are. Things with Ten might not be the same as they were for me and Jeno, but trust me – he doesn’t know how you feel. He wouldn’t taunt you if he did because he isn’t that kind of guy. You know that.”

But that was almost worse than the alternative. If Ten knew, then Mark could pin some of the hurt there, instead of keeping it all stuffed in his own chest, wire wool that scratched at his lungs and wound around his heart. If Ten knew, Mark could almost convince himself that everything he thought, everything he dreamed of and fantasied about wasn’t entirely based on his on illusions.

Jeno appeared with their drinks, grinning happily. “Hey,” he said, passing each individual glass over. “Doyoung text me and said that their crew are going to that new club. Apparently it’s only a twenty-minute walk from here, and that the doormen will let us in for free since they fucked Yuta or something. Do you guys want to go?”

And this, _this_ was the worst part. The fact that despite himself, Mark immediately nodded, knowing Ten would be there. The part of him that disregarded his own feelings in order to fall further into something already entirely inescapable. The part of him that wanted to see Ten despite what it did to him, what it left him with, mostly empty and entirely hopeless.

Jaemin slid him a glance, but when it became clear their conversation was over, he nodded too. He nudged Renjun, who had been staring down at his phone and ignoring his friends for at least twenty minutes. “Junnie? You wanna go to the club and meet the others?”

Renjun peeked up through the fall of his chestnut hair. “Who’ll be there?”

Jeno shrugged. “Uh, Doyoung, Yuta, Johnny, Taeyong, Ten, Kun… I don’t know. Maybe Jaehyun, Jungwoo, and Taeil. We’d have to see who turns up when we get there.”

Renjun took a moment to think, but quickly came to a decision and nodded. “If Doyoung is there, sure.”

Jaemin snorted, drink to his mouth. “He’s engaged.”

“I _know_ that dumbass, but he’s also the only tolerable person I’m currently friends with.”

Jeno blinked rapidly, eyes wide and puppyish. “He’s engaged? When did he propose?”

Mark laughed. “He hasn’t yet, don’t worry. He’d definitely tell you beforehand, anyway. Last I heard, he was just being really unsubtle about figuring out Taeyong’s ring size.”

“Oh, good. I was getting ready to be offended that he hadn’t told me.”

Jaemin cocked his head, considering. His drink was already empty, a testament to his lack of working tastebuds. No one else would be able to down a tall glass of tequila and orange juice in quite the same rapid fashion. “It does pose a question,” he said. “Mark, I’ve been wondering this for a while. How does it feel to be one of two gay cousins?”

Mark frowned, confused by the sudden topic shift. “I’m bi, dude. You know that.”

Jaemin waved a dismissive hand. “Semantics matter not. I’m talking family events, birthdays, the party you have for the weird uncle marrying his silicone doll – do the LGBT members huddle together for warmth or do you do what the rest of us lonely gays do and sit staring at your phone until the heteronormative rituals end and you get access to the open bar?”

Mark made a swift attempt to down his own drink in avoidance of facing Jaemin’s personality. The vodka coke burnt all the way down, but it tasted better than whatever Jeno would be tasting on Jaemin’s mouth later that evening. It was a hollow victory when Mark lowered his glass and found Jaemin still staring expectantly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My family’s pretty close. I don’t have an uncle marrying a silicone doll. Taeyong and I were always together anyway, even before I knew I was bisexual. We’ve just always been close.”

Jaemin sighed, pouting. “No fun. I wanted juicy family drama.”

“My dad’s cousin was arrested for attempted murder after she pushed her husband down the stairs,” Jeno offered, eyes earnest.

“This is why I love you,” Jaemin declared. He stood up, once again nudging Renjun back into reality, gesturing for him to finish his drink. “Come on, I wanna get to the club as soon as possible. You know Jaehyun will buy our drinks if I ask nicely enough.”

Jeno shook his head, smiling.

Mark watched them, something bittersweet sat in the pit of his stomach. While Renjun was doing his best to ignore everyone, Mark found it a little more difficult. Jeno and Jaemin by no means had a perfect relationship, but there was something beautiful in the way Jaemin was unapologetically himself, and Jeno went along with everything just because he loved his boyfriend. They were ride or die, but there was definitely the silent acknowledgement that if Jaemin was driving, it was a much more dangerous journey.

It wasn’t until they were walking to the club that Renjun finally pocketed his phone, looking up just in time to see Jaemin trying to shove his tongue down Jeno’s throat as they walked hand in hand.

Mark couldn’t blame Renjun for his sour expression because he was sure his face probably mirrored something similar. There was only so much PDA he could take before he wanted to scrub his eyes.

“If they weren’t so nice I’d be tempted to kick them both,” Renjun said. “I’d probably take their wallets, too.”

Mark couldn’t help but laugh. “That might be a good idea if it weren’t illegal.”

“It would also help if they had money,” Renjun said. “What a shame they’re both too broke to be worth the effort.”

Mark laughed again. When he looked at Renjun, he was pleased to see a small smile, but concerned to see that it didn’t reach Renjun’s eyes. “You’re really quiet tonight.”

Renjun nodded. “I am.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. I didn’t really want to come tonight, but I knew that if I did I’d get free drinks.” Renjun shrugged. “Staying awake for a couple more hours is a small price to pay for those expensive, tasty cocktails I’m going to swindle from strangers.”

Mark giggled. “Swindled? Seriously?”

“Or scammed, Mark, if your sensibilities disagree with my terminology.”

He laughed again, louder. “You’ll have competition, you know that, right?”

“From Jaemin? He’ll be occupied with Jeno long enough for me to get a head start.”

“I meant from Ten. Jungwoo too, if he comes.”

“Jungwoo and I attract different types,” Renjun said, smoothing down his hair. “But Ten better stay away. I don’t need another short twink encroaching on my turf.” His eyes narrowed, turning sly in the way that always spelled trouble. Mark thanked God for the small mercy of Donghyuck’s date with Yangyang clashing with their night out, because only Donghyuck making the same face as Renjun could make things worse. “You’ll keep Ten busy won’t you, Mark? For me?”

“No,” Mark said immediately.

“Yes,” Renjun said, like some kind of decision had already been made. “You’ll keep Ten distracted while I charm my way into a blissful drunken stupor, and then Jeno can carry me home at the end of the night.” He pointed at Mark, threatening. “Make sure it’s Jeno that carries me. His shoulders are broad and comfy, and Jaemin’s look nice but they’re way too pointy. If he carries me I’ll wake up with bruises on my stomach, and that’s the last thing I’ll need. Make sure it’s Jeno.”

If only Taeyong had made sure Mark was raised to be cruel. Cruel or at least careless, someone that could tell Renjun to shove his idea up his ass and deal with everything himself.

Unfortunately, he’d been raised to be kind. To be a good friend. To humour his friends and their awful attempts at helping him, no matter how convoluted.

So when they reached the club and Renjun immediately shoved Mark towards the smoking area to the back of the building, he went willingly.

He saw Johnny first, a head above the crowd, hair in a little topknot that bounced as he laughed at whatever it was Kun was saying. Mark used that topknot as a lighthouse in a tumultuous sea of drunk students, guiding him to his friends.

As soon as Johnny caught sight of Mark he lit up, grinning and waving like a madman. “Mark’s here!”

A lot of attention was suddenly turned Mark’s way, but luckily it was from the right people. They all greeted him happily, Yuta pulling him in for a hug, Taeyong stroking a hand through his hair, Doyoung patting his shoulder somewhat awkwardly, Kun offering him a fist bump. Ten was last, at the back of the group with a cigarette tucked behind his ear despite the fact that he didn’t smoke. He embraced Mark warmly, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his neck.

“Hi,” Ten breathed. “Missed you.”

Mark laughed, but it came out somewhat closer to a scream. He patted Ten’s back. “You too.” When he pulled back, Ten was still smiling, fond. “Does anyone want a drink?”

Taeyong waved a hand, frowning playfully. “You’re not paying for our drinks, Mark, it’s our job to pay for yours! What would you like?”

“Let me guess,” Johnny drawled, “Vodka and lemonade.”

Yuta laughed. “Students splurge on shit that doesn’t taste like acid if someone else is footing the bill, dude. Long island iced tea?”

Mark shook his head. “I just want a beer, if that’s okay.”

Ten passed over a cold bottle, their hands brushing in the exchange. “You can have mine; I didn’t really want it anyway. I promise it’s clean, no one has had a chance to put anything in it.”

Mark looked down at the bottle, surprised. “Oh. Wow, uh – thank you. Are you sure?”

Ten nodded, still smiling. “I always think a second beer will be a good idea, but it starts to taste like fizzy bread to me after the first one. I’ll switch to something else next time I go to the bar.”

Mark took a sip and felt it cool the back of his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was an odd quiet that settled over the group for a moment. Mark took another sip of his newly acquired beer and hoped that the low lighting hid the redness of his cheeks as through the silence, Ten still didn’t look away.

“Okay!” Johnny said, far too loud. “Who wants to find a table inside and then go dance?”

“Sounds good,” Taeyong replied. “Mark, where are the others?”

“They went straight to the bar,” he said as they walked back inside. Immediately the music became almost deafening, but Ten slipped his hand into Mark’s and gripped tight, ensuring he didn’t get lost in the press of bodies.

It wasn’t until they reached the second level of the club, an open balcony full of sticky booths and overturned chairs that they found somewhere that they’d all fit. Immediately, Taeyong, Doyoung, and Kun dropped off their drinks and then headed back to the ground floor to find Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun, to buy their drinks if they hadn’t already scammed their way into someone else’s wallet.

It left Mark with Johnny, Ten, and Yuta, the three of which were probably the worst influences on Mark out of the entirety of the group, each with a smile that broke hearts and stitched them back together in the same breath.

By the time Taeyong returned with the rest of the boys, Mark had finished his beer. He’d also finished Johnny’s whisky sour and Yuta’s vodka cranberry, and he was well on his way to light-headedness, the kind of drunk that made him giggle constantly, head on Johnny’s shoulder as he lost the will to hold himself up.

Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin squeezed into the booth on Mark’s free side, while Taeyong and Doyoung passed over a round of shots and then left the table to go and dance together. Kun passed Ten another fresh drink, something pink and sparkling with a small umbrella that he immediately put behind his ear, replacing the foreign cigarette that he passed over to Yuta.

Mark nudged Johnny. “Whose cigarette is that?”

Johnny shrugged. He passed Mark a shot and then picked up one for himself. “I don’t know, some guy that tried it on with Ten.”

The shot burned all the way down Mark’s throat, but it still sat easier in his stomach than the thought of Ten with a stranger.

Johnny hummed. “On second thought, it might not have been from the stranger. Yukhei was here for a while too, it could have been from him.”

“Oh,” Mark said, somewhat placated. Emotions were much harder to repress when he’d mixed his alcohols, and whatever Johnny saw in his expression, it was more than Mark was comfortable with. Johnny stared down at him with a single eyebrow raised, half amused and half exasperated. “What?” Mark asked, testy.

“Nothing,” Johnny replied, expression not altering. “I’m not interfering, I’m sure you get enough of that already.”

Before Mark could ask exactly what he meant, Ten stood up and drew Mark’s attention like a flame to a moth. “Does anyone want to go and dance?”

“Yes,” Mark said before he could think.

From the way Ten smiled, he couldn’t even bring himself to regret the decision.

Johnny waved from the table as the two left for the dancefloor, his eyes dark and too knowing. Ten rolled his eyes and laughed when he saw Johnny’s stair, flipping him off before squeezing Mark’s shoulder and guiding him to the stairs.

Despite the way Mark’s vision was fraying at the edges, unravelling like Ten was pulling on the loose threads, Mark knew it wasn’t because of how much he’d drank in such a short time. It was the way Ten drew everyone’s stares as he passed, all slicked back hair, mesh shirt and leather jacket, that stupid pink umbrella still tucked behind his ear like a pretty little flower against the ambrosian silk of his skin. It was the way Ten wriggled his way onto the dancefloor and immediately spun to face Mark, that same fond look in his eye as he held out his hand for Mark to take.

It was the way Mark wasn’t big, he wasn’t tall or muscular or anything out of the ordinary, but his hand still enveloped Ten’s pixie fingers, the chipped black nail polish hidden as Mark closed his fingers.

It was the way they danced together through song after song, and Mark stared until his eyes were watering, burning up because he didn’t want to blink the moment away.

It was the way Ten giggled, high pitched and doting as he stroked his free hand through Mark’s hair and then spun away, taunting, asking to be followed.

It was the way that even drunk and foolish, Mark knew it was love that made the back of his throat ache as he did what Ten wanted, pushing further into the crowd to continue their dance.

Like he’d never doubted Mark would follow, Ten spun back and directly into Mark’s arms, smiling wide. “Hi,” he said, barely audible over the thumping bass and the shouting of the crowd.

“Hi,” Mark said, not sure where to put his hands. They hovered over Ten’s waist, not touching, unsure if he had the right to breach that tiny gap and make contact.

“Haven’t seen much of you recently, baby.”

Mark’s knees went weak. “I’ve been busy with classes,” he lied, hoping his voice sounded stronger to Ten than it did to himself.

“I’ve missed you,” Ten said.

Mark’s hands finally settled on Ten’s tiny waist, the buckles of his leather jacket cold against Mark’s warm palms. “You’ve already said that tonight.”

Ten nodded, still smiling. His gaze was hooded. “I meant it.”

Was this something Mark was imagining? Was his desperate mind creating its own mirage, Ten lifting a hand to graze the skin of Mark’s cheek, pressing lightly against the mole above his mouth, Ten’s body pressing closer, Ten’s eyes dark and ever warm but this time somehow darker, somehow warmer, somehow becoming, accepting, inviting.

“You know,” Ten murmured, “I’ve been thinking hard about what I should do, if I should be forward or if it would be better for you if I –“

And then someone stumbled into Ten with the force of a truck, and he hit the floor like a bird knocked from the sky.

It was almost worse that it turned out to be Johnny, because that meant that Ten was definitely going to have bruises plastering his skin in the following days.

It also meant that when Mark immediately knelt down to help him up, Johnny was already there, half laughing and half apologising, eyes wide and panicked as he plucked Ten from the floor and set him back on his feet, entirely whole other than the missing cocktail umbrella that must have been lost underfoot in the crowd.

“You’re okay?” Johnny asked Ten, still laughing a little as he dusted Ten off. His gaze turned to Mark, concerned and amused. “Mark? You’re okay too?”

He nodded, watching the way Ten’s face disappeared behind Johnny’s huge hands as he wiped the imaginary dust from Ten’s forehead. Beneath Johnny’s motherly wiping, Ten was cherry red. His eyes were on the floor, and more than embarrassed, he looked downright _humiliated._ Like he could feel Mark’s eyes, he looked up, only to meet his gaze for a second before looking back to the floor.

Something ugly twisted in the pit of Mark’s stomach. He gestured vaguely to the bar. “I’m gonna – I’m just gonna get some air.”

Johnny looked up, concerned, but before he could ask anything Mark was already forcing his way back through the crowd, not to the bar but to the smoking area on the other side of the dancefloor, the only place he could get away from the pounding music and the embarrassment in Ten’s expression at having been caught dancing with Mark.

He didn’t feel happy drunk anymore, or euphoric love. He felt the oncoming hangover, the dry mouth and ringing head, the acid stomach, and weak muscles. He already felt the regret that was meant to start the next morning.

It kind of sucked how quickly moods could change from good to bad. Like popping a bubble, slipping on a banana peel, something horribly cliché, the pain of an emotion almost too cringeworthy to acknowledge.

Mark pushed his way to the back of the smoking area and startled when a hand snaked out and grabbed his ankle. It was Jaemin sat pressed against the wall of the building, a cigarette up each nostril. He was grinning.

“Who the hell is giving out all these cigarettes?” Mark asked, perturbed enough to ignore his own embarrassed suffering.

“Yukhei,” Jaemin said, not removing them from his nose. “Some guy gave him a packet yesterday and he’s trying to get rid of them on anyone who’ll take them.” Jaemin shrugged. “Says he hates menthol, so they’re no good. They smell pretty nice though.”

“Dude,” Mark said. There was nothing to follow, no statement to back up the beginning of his speech. He simply had nothing else to say to Jaemin, who was still grinning up at him with a cigarette up each nostril. Mark sat down next to him on the floor with a heavy sigh, enjoying the cool night air, the break from the heady smell of sticky alcohol and Ten’s spiced cologne.

“Jeno just took Renjun home,” Jaemin said into their peaceful silence. He finally moved the cigarettes, offering one to Mark.

“I’d rather smoke crack than something that’s been chilling up your nose,” Mark said. “And I promised my mom I’d never smoke crack.”

Jaemin acquiesced, pocketing both cigarettes. “Fair enough,” he said. “But yeah, Renjun insisted I couldn’t take him home, that it had to be Jeno. Something about my shoulders being too sharp.”

“He mentioned that to me before we arrived,” Mark muttered. He blinked. “So why’re you still here? Actually, why are you _alone?_ Where is everyone else?”

“Last I heard, Johnny, Yuta, and Kun were going to dance, while Doyoung was trying to sober Taeyong up with some water at the bar.” Jaemin smiled prettily. “So I thought I’d come outside, get some fresh air, and wait for your inevitable Ten panic to lead you to me.”

Damn. And only minutes earlier Mark had been wondering if he could ever get more embarrassed. It turns out he could, and he had. Jaemin and his Megamind powers embarrassed him even more than Ten’s regret.

“That hurts,” Mark said, voice weak.

Jaemin nudged his shoulder, soft. “It wasn’t meant to hurt, man. I just knew you’d freak yourself out, and I wanted to be here to make sure you didn’t have to deal with it alone.”

That smoothed over some of the sting. Mark nodded, head low, and nudged Jaemin back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaemin said, as if being such a considerate friend was the easiest thing in the world. “So what happened?”

Mark shrugged. “We were dancing, and I think I was looking too deep into it, you know? And then Johnny knocked into Ten by accident, and I think Ten got embarrassed when he realised how close we’d been.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like Ten,” he said. “As far as I’ve seen, Ten doesn’t have the sense nor dignity to understand embarrassment.”

“Well, he definitely does now,” Mark said, trying to ignore the way Ten’s avoidance of looking at Mark wasn’t seared into the back of his eyelids. Knowing his luck, he’d be dreaming of it too, once he finally got home and fell asleep.

“Do you want to leave?” Jaemin asked, softer than his other questions. “Hyuck text me that he got home about half an hour ago, so if you go now you might be able to persuade him to watch a film with you before he falls into his nightly gaming pit.”

Ten was probably dancing with Johnny now. Or Yuta, or Kun – or someone else. Whatever he was doing, he probably didn’t want Mark to return. And Mark didn’t want it either. Not now. “Yeah,” he said, more certain than he had been all evening. “I want to go home.”

Jaemin stood up quickly and offered a hand to help Mark up. “Then let’s go,” he said. “You can send Taeyong a message when we’re in the taxi.”

Mark nodded. If he let himself, he’d probably get emotional about what a good friend Jaemin is, but he held back the drunken tears and bit his tongue to stop any mushy words from escaping. Jaemin would just laugh and use it as ammunition the next time he wanted to win an argument, and Mark wasn’t quite drunk enough to forget that.

From Donghyuck to Renjun to Jaemin – with Jeno posing as an extremely sweet blip on the radar – Mark had to acknowledge that as kind as his friends were, they were also just as evil. At times like this he could appreciate them, but anything over the top would be met with sadistic punishment some time in the not-too-distant future.

So, instead of saying anything as Jaemin hailed a taxi, Mark went online and ordered Chinese food to be delivered to Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment for the time he’d get home.

It was a silent thank you, but often with friends like Jaemin, those were the most appreciated kind.

-

The next day was pure misery.

Mark woke up with a headache, a dry throat, a bone deep need to vomit, and a text from Ten sent a little past three a.m. that just read, _‘You left without saying anything?’_

While he contemplated the pros and cons of dunking his head into the toilet and leaving it there, Donghyuck walked into his bedroom with a mug of coffee and an unimpressed stare. “Did you fuck things up again?”

Mark accepted the coffee with murmured thanks and took one blissful sip. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe. Probably.”

Donghyuck sighed and took a seat on the bed next to Mark’s wormlike form. “I did wonder. Were you drunk when you got in last night? You wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I wasn’t drunk at that point, just…”

“Pathetic?” Donghyuck offered.

Mark nodded, defeated. “Something like that.”

Donghyuck patted Mark’s leg through the sheets. “Never mind,” he said. “We’re young and stupid, shit happens.”

It was oddly affirming, as Donghyuck tended to be. Comforting, but in the strangest of ways. “Thanks,” Mark said, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Don’t thank me,” Donghyuck replied, raising his brows. “It’s not like you’ve never helped me after a messy night. It’s actually kind of nice to see you so fucked up, in a way. Even the perfect Mark Lee does shit he regrets the next morning.”

The conversation was no longer comforting. “I think I made a big mistake with Ten.”

“Oh? What happened?”

Mark briefly explained the course of the evening, skimming over the details of his sweaty palms and weak knees, but making sure to include the parts he considered key. He ended with the text Ten had sent, which was making him reconsider the way he’d seen things. “I didn’t think he’d want me to come back and say bye,” he said. “He looked so embarrassed about being seen like that, I figured he’d want some time to himself, like, away from me.”

Donghyuck’s expression was droll. “Maybe he was embarrassed that Johnny knocked him onto his face, Mark. Maybe he’s upset that his friend ditched without a word.”

Mark groaned, throwing his tender head back against the pillow. “Why wouldn’t he look at me though?”

“He was embarrassed.”

“Can you please just give me some advice and then leave me here to rot?”

“Ask him for coffee or something. Apologise, explain that you were trying to give him the grace of recovering out of sight or something. I don’t know why you needed to hear that from me though, dude. It’s pretty much common sense.”

“You’re not making me feel better.”

“My job isn’t to make you feel better,” Donghyuck said plainly. “Besides, when I fuck up, you’re nice to me but you always help me back onto the right path. I’m helping you, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Sometimes you’re so in your own head that you need a reminder that the people outside exist too.”

-

As much as Mark hated to admit it, Donghyuck was right. He was stuck in his own head, circling over the same thoughts again and again, unable to listen to anyone else.

It must have come with being the sensible one out of his friends. When he looked back on his friendship with Donghyuck, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung, there were lots of memories of Mark offering advice and guiding them through difficult patches. He could give advice – he was good at it, and by this point in his twenty-two years of life, he was very experienced in it – but taking advice turned out to be another matter entirely.

When he gave himself the time he needed to truly think about it, he came to the realisation that there was only one person in his life that he truly listened to. There was only one person whose advice he would take without question or second thought.

-

Due to their busy schedules, Mark didn’t get the chance to talk to Taeyong until the following Wednesday, which proved to be drizzly and cold in a true example of pathetic fallacy.

Mark was wet through to his underwear by the time he’d made it to Taeyong’s apartment that evening, and as soon as Taeyong saw Mark looking drenched and sad, his nurturing mode turned on to its highest mode.

“You’ll catch the flu!” Taeyong exclaimed, dragging Mark into the apartment by his arm. “Idiot, go get a hot shower! I’ll leave you some fresh clothes outside the bathroom door.”

And because it was Taeyong, Mark didn’t put up a fight. He took solace in knowing that literally no one else would argue with Taeyong either, because his eyes felt like weapons specifically designed to kill you with remorse. If Taeyong hit you with the puppy stare you did what he asked, or you thought about the gaze for the rest of the week, through sleepless nights and guilt induced fits of grief.

So Mark took a shower, and when he was once again the temperature of a living human body, he dried off and changed into the clothes Taeyong had left, ignoring the way the trousers pooled at his ankles.

Emerging from the bathroom, he found Taeyong in the lounge, two mugs of steaming tea on the coffee table. He patted the spot on the couch beside him. “Come sit down, Mark. Tell me what’s got you looking so sad.”

Mark took the seat and the mug offered, curling his legs under his body as he breathed in the steam of the drink and tried to find his words. After a long moment, he gave up. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Taeyong nodded. He reached for his own drink. “Doyoung won’t be home for a couple of hours, so take your time. Does it start with Saturday night, or before then?”

Mark shrugged, uncomfortable that it was obvious without saying anything that something bad had happened on Saturday. “It kind of starts then, but also before then.”

Taeyong frowned. “You’re not giving me much to work with here.”

Mark made a weak noise, attempting to cover his discomfort with another sip of hot tea. “ImaybehaveacrushonTen.”

Taeyong squinted. “Huh? Say it slower.”

“I fucked up,” Mark said. He was not willing to repeat his panicked garble and toss the last of his dignity to the wind. “I uh, ditched Ten without a word on Saturday, and I think he might be pissed.”

“Okay,” Taeyong said slowly. “Well, it’s Wednesday. Have you spoken to him about it since it happened?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m scared,” Mark admitted. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“I don’t think avoiding the issue is going to fix anything, honey,” Taeyong said gently. “Besides, Ten is as soft as a marshmallow. I’m sure he’d forgive you for anything.”

There was so much that Mark couldn’t bring himself to talk about with Taeyong, so much that he needed to share but didn’t know how. His crush, his actions, his fear. The perpetual worry that he was going to ruin the unspoken dynamic of Ten doting on him, the anxiety that came with every single interaction, but the hope that lingered too.

“I’m surprised,” Taeyong said, the words coming out haltingly, like he was still deciding how best to phrase what he wanted to say. “That you’re so worried. The way you act around Ten confuses most of us, you know. Including Ten.”

Mark frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that sometimes you look like you’re in love with him, and sometimes you look like you don’t want anything to do with him. It’s confusing to watch from a distance, so I can’t imagine how Ten handles it. He doesn’t speak to me about you, but I think that might be deliberate on his part, for both of our sakes.”

“I’m not in love with him!” Mark squeaked. Then, when his brain caught up, “I don’t hate him, either!”

“Then why do you go so hot and cold?”

It was another question Mark didn’t want to answer, another truth he didn’t want to admit.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Taeyong said. “I’m sorry, that’s not my business, it’s between you and Ten.” He leant close and squeezed Mark’s knee, his eyes big and earnest. “I’m always on your side, Mark. You’re a great kid, and whatever it is you’re struggling with now, you need to remember that we all adore you. We’re all here for you.”

_You’re a great kid._

That was the issue. “Do everyone?”

“What?”

“Does everyone see me as a kid?”

Taeyong laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at – everything. Johnny said a couple of weeks ago that I baby you to the point that it confuses everyone, and I guess he was right. I think I’m the only one that actually sees you as a kid, Mark, but that’s because when we were both little I helped your mom change your diapers. You’ll always be little Markie in a diaper to me.”

“But I’m twenty-two,” Mark said, still trying to come to terms with it himself.

“I know,” Taeyong said, back to his gentle earnestness. “And I’m so proud of you. You’re a hard-working adult with passion and kindness that knows no limits. If you’re worried that Ten sees you as a kid he has to babysit instead of a friend, I’ll tell you now that it isn’t how he sees you at all. He met you as an adult and that’s how he sees you. That’s how everyone sees you.” He wiped away an imaginary tear. “But you’re my little cousin. I’ll always be here to look out for you spoil you if you need it.”

Mark felt his cheeks warm. “And if I… dated someone that was friends with you, you wouldn’t think that was weird?”

“Not at all.” Understanding dawned. “Oh, honey,” Taeyong said, sympathetic. “All this time you’ve been worrying about how Ten saw you?”

Mark nodded.

“I can’t tell you how he feels, because I honestly don’t know, but what I can tell you is that he’s still practicing at the studio,” Taeyong said. “If you feel ready to talk to him about Saturday and about how you’re feeling.”

“I just don’t want to make things any worse than they already are,” Mark said into his half empty mug.

“Ten has forgiven worse sins than being ditched at a club,” Taeyong said. “Johnny gave him raw chicken for dinner and made him ill for over a week last year. I’m sure he’ll be just as kind to you as he was to Johnny when it came to grovelling.”

Mark nodded, standing. He had to do something, and better this than hiding in Taeyong’s apartment hoping the storm will pass. If he wanted to be seen as an adult, he had to act like one. “Okay, I’m gonna go see him. Thanks, Taeyong. As always.”

Taeyong stood too, pulling Mark into a tight hug. “Any time,” he murmured. “Let me know how things go, and make sure you take the umbrella by the door. I don’t want you getting soaked again.”

So Mark left in borrowed clothes with a borrowed umbrella, and walked back to campus so worried he thought he might have to pause and vomit into a bush. Luckily, despite the rolling of his stomach, nothing came up. Confessing to Ten with puke breath was probably the only thing that could make it even more painful to walk towards the studio, and each step was already agonising.

It was a small mercy that the studio was empty due to the lateness of the day, only one room lit. Mark followed the light, confused as to the lack of music until he entered the room and found Ten splayed across the floor, scrolling on his phone. Not quite practicing, then.

Ten looked up when the door squeaked open expression shuttering when he saw Mark. He made no move to get up. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Mark said. The need to vomit was back, but there was no shrubbery to hide it in. He swallowed heavily and prayed for God’s mercy. “Can we talk?”

Ten finally sat up. “Sure,” he said, neutral. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“I uh, want to apologise,” Mark said, voice weak. “For Saturday. And probably other times too.”

Ten frowned, obviously confused. “Okay. Are you going to elaborate or leave it at that?”

Mark felt his face heating up, but he pushed past the need to run away. “I’m going to elaborate.” He took a seat on the floor near Ten, not close enough to touch, but close enough to show that he was intent on bridging the rift he’d created. “I’m really sorry for leaving on Saturday without saying anything. It was rude, and the fact that I didn’t hang around to check that you were unhurt was selfish of me. I’m sorry for that.”

Ten lifted his chin, a sign of emotional vulnerability that Mark had come to know well. “Apology accepted,” Ten said. “Any other night and it wouldn’t have bothered me so much, Mark, but considering the circumstances it really hurt my feelings. I thought you would have given me the chance to at least finish.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me. You looked like you didn’t want me there.” Mark’s eyes widened when he realised how that sounded. “Not that it’s an excuse! I just mean that… I don’t even know anymore. I didn’t want to embarrass you any more than you already were.”

Ten’s frown deepened. “How could you embarrass me further?”

And it was like a dam breaking, each word fighting its way out of Mark’s mouth faster than his brain could keep up with. “I mean you were already so red because Johnny had seen you like that with me, and I thought if I hung around and tried to help it would look even worse for you, so I figured it would be best to put space between us and Jaemin found me outside and asked if I wanted to go home because I was upset at how awkward I’d made things and how shitty I was being, but I didn’t know how to change it-“

 _“Mark._ Take a breath.”

He inhaled but choked on it a little.

Ten laughed tiredly and rubbed a hand down his face. “Jeez, I thought you were going to start freestyling.”

Mark laughed too, but it came out small and kind of sad. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby, you can stop apologising now.” Ten’s hand fell away from his face and landed in his lap, so small and holdable. “I’m just not sure I understand why it is you think you’d make my embarrassment any worse. I’m the one that fell on my face mid-confession.”

“I just felt like – “ Mark stopped, the gears in his brain finally starting to turn at the speed they needed to. “Wait. You what?”

Ten turned pink. His hand came back up, covering his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“No, but like – _seriously?”_

“Yes, seriously. Wasn’t it obvious?”

Maybe with hindsight it could have been, but Mark was reeling. He was blindsided. Out of all the many scenarios he’d played out in his daydreams, Ten confessing to him had never come up as one of the options. “So when you – and Johnny – you weren’t embarrassed at being caught like that with me?”

Ten’s hands moved, eyes wide. _“What?_ That’s what you thought?”

Mark nodded, chewing his bottom lip. “I’m just Taeyong’s little cousin. I thought you were drunk and maybe went too far or something.”

“I wasn’t drunk, Mark. I was tipsy, sure, but not drunk. I wasn’t embarrassed to be caught dancing with you like that, I was embarrassed that midway through asking you on a fucking date and Johnny bulldozed me into the dancefloor.”

_‘I’ve been thinking hard about what I should do, if I should be forward or if it would be better for you if I-‘_

“Oh,” Mark said faintly. “I didn’t realise. I didn’t know.”

“What did you think I was doing?” Ten was frowning now, but not angrily. He just looked confused and vulnerable. “I’ve been trying to make it very clear how I feel about you.”

It was Mark’s turn to hide behind his hands. If he’d thought Saturday had been embarrassment, this was an entirely new level. Beside cloud nine, there was a cloud specifically designed for humiliation so strong it made you lightheaded, and Mark was there. He was floating on it, weighing the pros and cons of flinging himself off. “Ten,” he mumbled, faint, “I thought I was projecting. I thought that like, you’d never see me like that, and I was making a big deal out of nothing. I kept telling myself that you were treating me like everyone else, and that I should stop getting myself so worked up over nothing.”

Ten hummed, low in his chest. “Is that why you kept running away from me? Most of the time you act like you enjoy the way I treat you, but then sometimes you’d just… block me out.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark whispered, still behind his hands. “I was scared.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t see you as Taeyong’s little cousin,” Ten said. “You auditioned for the dance team before I knew the two of you were related, and I thought you were beautiful then. Since finding out you’re cousins, that hasn’t changed. I just see you as Mark, and I always have. I always will.”

When Mark finally lowered his hands, he found Ten staring at him, soft. “I like you,” Mark admitted, barely audible. “I more than like you. Ten, I’m kind of obsessed.”

It startled a laugh out of Ten. “I’m kind of obsessed too, baby. Not to bring Katy Perry into an LGBT moment, but despite the way you were hot and cold, I still wanted you.”

“I just didn’t think you’d take it seriously,” Mark said. His heart was starting to speed up, a combination of elation and fear that made him want to run away again. “You know, like, Taeyong’s little cousin having a crush on you.”

“You’re not Taeyong’s cousin, you’re Mark Lee,” Ten said. His eyes were shiny in a way that usually promised either tears or trouble. “You’re my partner in crime. No one helps me piss off Johnny the way that you do.”

“What about Yangyang?”

“He has no time for my antics since he fell in love with Donghyuck.”

Mark cringed. “That’s true. Donghyuck didn’t even let me sulk on Sunday when I was hungover and sad.”

Ten laughed. “Who would have thought that a relationship would mature the two little goblins of the group?

Recklessly bold, Mark blurted out, “Do you think that we’ll mature?”

Ten smiled, wide and happy. “I hope not. Why don’t we find out?”

-

The first date was awkward. They’d been for coffee dozens of times before, but just knowing it was a date made Mark slump beneath the table and attempt to hide behind his mug.

Ten wasn’t having any of it though, prodding Mark’s legs until he finally sat up and faced the fact that whether he believed it or not, Ten genuinely wanted Mark to eat a marshmallow from between Ten’s pinched fingers.

“You have to move past this embarrassment,” Ten said, amused. “Either you eat the marshmallow, or I eat you.”

Mark’s stomach swooped low and then shot into the sky. “Do you promise?”

Ten’s eyes darkened. He placed the marshmallow into his own mouth and started to chew. “I guess you’ll have to find that out now, won’t you?”

And Mark did his best, he really did. He tried so hard not to make it all about sex, but when he’d been lusting over Ten for almost two years, there was only so long he could go before he popped a boner in public. Frankly, he was just glad it happened in his own apartment instead of on the subway or something. As much as Ten cared, he still would have told Johnny, and then Mark would have had to move to another country.

But no. The boner managed to wait until the second date, which still wasn’t a great record, but was better than in the café.

It wasn’t until Ten shifted his head from Mark’s shoulder, the film forgotten on the laptop at the end of the bed, and asked, “Mark, are you hard?”

“Maybe a little,” Mark squeaked, glad for the low light disguising what was no doubt a very red complexion.

“You like Dracula that much?”

“I mean it’s obviously not because of the film, Ten!”

Ten laughed, loud and so fond that once again, Mark found his knees weakening. “I’m just teasing you, baby, as always. I get you this excited?”

 _Oh God._ They were doing this?

Ten touched Mark’s cheek with his cold hand. “Mark? If you’re not comfortable we don’t have to-“

“Last time we watched a movie as a group you made me hard too,” Mark blurted out.

There was a pause. “Is that why you kept shifting away?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then, a sigh. “Oh, baby,” Ten said, pulling Mark closer. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

“Fuck me?” Mark suggested. “If you’re cool with it, that is.”

Ten stared at him for a moment, incredulous. “I don’t understand your embarrassment threshold at all, Mark Lee.”

Mark shrugged, too giddy from the lack of rejection to worry. Donghyuck was out, and Ten wasn’t shifting away. “I mean, that’s not an answer.”

“You want me that badly, baby? You’ll get all worked up during a movie night with friends, but you won’t put your hands on me when we dance?”

“It’s different,” Mark mumbled, staring up at Ten. Despite his small size, when they were laid like this, with Mark against the pillows and Ten raised on one arm, he looked bigger. He looked overwhelming in all the best ways, all dark eyes and sharp teeth.

“It’s different?” Ten repeated, smiling. “Do you want to explain how?”

“No,” Mark said, lifting his chin. “I want you to fuck me.”

Dracula was quickly forgotten after that.

If Mark were being honest, pretty much everything was forgotten in that moment. If someone asked Mark his name while Ten had two slim fingers pressed against Mark’s prostate, the only thing that would have come from his mouth was a reedy whine. Not that it mattered – Ten seemed intent on swallowing all of Mark’s noises anyway.

Ten always moved with a particular inhuman quality, sometimes like water, sometimes like lightning, but it wasn’t until his skin was bare and his intense eyes were focused entirely on Mark that it truly felt overwhelming, all encompassing, like a fog of opaque pleasure had fallen and all Mark could see was Ten, all he could feel were those cold hands, that hot, wet tongue against the pulse in his throat.

When Mark shifted as if to turn, Ten’s hand gripped his waist tight enough to bruise. “Where are you going?”

Mark blinked, trying to make his eyes focus. There was a deep ache in his stomach, the need to come already pressing hard. “’M gonna get on my knees.”

Ten squeezed, a light warning, eyes bright and ever so slightly sadistic. “You’re not going to look me in the eye when I fuck you?”

Mark’s breath shuddered out. “You want me to?”

“Of course.” Ten leant down and kissed Mark, chaste until he dug his fingers into Mark’s waist again. When Mark’s mouth opened to groan out the pain, Ten licked into Mark’s mouth and made him groan again, higher pitched, needy. When Ten pulled back, he was smiling. “It took so long to get you to look at me directly, baby. I’m not wasting a second of it.”

So Mark stayed where he was, splayed against his messy sheets as Ten wrestled with Mark’s overflowing drawers, looking for the condoms he seemed sure he’d find. When he appeared, triumphant, there was a pause in his sinister aura as he giggled, waving the packet like a flag.

Mark stared up at him, dazed. “Dude,” he said. “I’m really in love with you.”

It made Ten pause, but not for long. He leant down and pressed another chaste kiss to Mark’s mouth, sweet and lingering. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured. “Now let me take care of you.”

And Mark had known all along, had feared it as much as he’d longed for it, but the truth of the matter was that no one knew how to use their hips like Ten did. From the moment he pressed in it felt different, like his body already knew where to angle itself, like his cock was made to bring Mark so much pleasure that his eyes started to water as soon as Ten moved.

And like everything between them seemed to be, it was awkward. Sex was always so fucking awkward, but in the best way. Ten would hit Mark’s prostate directly, and then they’d bang heads when Mark was in the midst of writhing. Their teeth would clash when they kissed, or Ten would rock into Mark with so much force that Mark was shoved up the bed and hit his head on the wall. It was funny, but it was hot. Mark was giddy from it all; he’d never laughed so much during sex, but he’d never _felt_ so much either. He came quickly, with a couple of silent tears that Ten was kind enough not to bring up in exchange for the sloppy blowjob that made him bang his own head on the wall as he came in Mark’s mouth.

And the aftermath was awkward too. Awkward and sticky, just like Ten after being pulled up from the dancefloor.

It was awkward, but nothing deterred Ten. He pulled Mark into the cramped shower and scrubbed his hands into Mark’s hair, washing it gently before demanding Mark do the same for him.

And then it wasn’t awkward, because Ten pushed Mark back into the bed and pulled the laptop up from its discarded spot, putting the film back on. He snuggled into Mark’s chest and kissed one of the many bite marks, smiling happily.

“You know,” he said into the quiet, “This is my favourite second date of all time.”

It was a weird thing to say, weird enough that it startled a laugh out of Mark. “I’m uh, glad.”

Ten nudged him. “Say it back.”

“It’s my favourite second date too,” Mark said, looking down at the crown of Ten’s hair. He smelt of Mark’s bodywash now, something that had never been particularly appealing, but that took a whole new form when mingled with Ten’s natural scent.

“I can’t wait to have a favourite third,” Ten said, sighing dreamily. “We can go back to the club. I can grind on you without you running away. The options are limitless.”

With Ten in Mark’s arms, he didn’t care about options. What he cared about was right there, smelling of familiar bodywash, blocking the movie with his head. “Sure,” Mark said, only half listening. “Whatever you want.”

Ten laughed, tightening his arms around Mark’s middle. “Oh, baby,” he said softly. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”


End file.
